Paper Planes
by Jabberwocky Tamer
Summary: Steve didn't think excitement would just spring up into his life, once he had moved into the the city from the country. He had expected to just fall into some mindless pattern of work, work, and more work, devoid of any real joy or color. What he didn't expect, was bumping into a rather handsome stranger on the way to his interview.


Hello there! Welcome to my first fanfic! Although I have so many other fanfics I would like to get out first, I decided, what the hell, try my hand at writing a fic that doesn't require a lot of extensive thinking and planning as well as research as my main ones do.

I do not own any of the Marvel characters and other related items you see here. If I owned either, well, I wouldn't be looking for jobs, now would I? All respective properties you see presented in this story belong to their respective owners; I am not making any profit off of this, nor is it my intention to do so. As for any other warnings you may possibly need to know about, I suggest you read my profile, since it has everything you need to know.

Without further ado, on with the story!

* * *

Steve rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed. He had repeated this motion for the past hour and a half or so since he had boarded the only bus going to the city.

The dusty bus was mostly empty; there was an old lady towards the back furiously scribbling away at some sort of word puzzle and right next to her sat a younger woman, presumably her daughter, snoring softly with her mouth wide open; up in front was a rather stout man with a bushy moustache, slouched over, doing some sort of weird trick with rubber bands.

(Steve liked to think the old lady actually had a divorce document that she was having too much fun with. Having grown up with a famous actress for a grandma, Steve had taken to imagining up dramatic situations for the people he saw in his day to day life),

The bus itself wasn't anything fancy; the seats were comfortable enough, having soft, plush cloth coverings, though if Steve were being honest, those were the only details about the bus he had bothered to remember before he had begun dozing off when the bus took off.

What a week it had been.

It had been very hectic, since Steve had to get rid of so many of his belongings, on the account that they all couldn't fit in his new apartment, not to mention that despite the fact that he had done his best to downsize his belongings to fit into a small apartment, he still had had plenty left over. There was also the fact that he had insisted on doing everything himself, softly telling his mother that he would be fine on his own, and that she didn't have to worry about him; he had wanted to show her that he would be capable of surviving on his own.

(Steve's mother honestly wasn't so sure if he would be able to do so, since he had only just recently had his lifelong problem of asthma cured by what doctors all over the world have been dubbing, "The Erskine Panacea," after Dr. Erskine, the small town's sole doctor, himself. She wasn't sure how he had managed a breakthrough, although she did know it had something to do with her son's blood, having overheard him mutter something about, "The perfect medium… for a serum…"

Well, whatever it was, it worked, and that was all she and Steve cared about.

Even though it had been six months since his experimental medicine was a success, Dr. Erskine still recommended that Steve take it easy: no running off to build muscle mass as fast as possible, no getting into fights, no physical activity that would basically overexert him. To say Steve was a little disappointed, was an understatement.)

Needless to say, Steve found out the hard way on just how much junk one person accumulates over the course of ten or so years, not to mention how many items that were once thought to be lost resurfaced (during the packing of box number fourteen, he had stumbled upon an old poster of a movie actress his grandmother had been friends with; she had winked at him, before giving it to him on his 12th birthday. He later found out why she winked, when he saw her friend's signature on the bottom.)

He had decided to finally move into the city to begin a new chapter in his life, after agonizing about what to do after graduating high school. He had spent most of his time working odd jobs here and there to help support his mother and him, while he figured out the next step in his life.

One of his coworkers over at the bank had mentioned something along the lines of an office job over at Stark Industries, said he knew a nice fellow who would be more than willing to offer any friends of his a job; he figured that might've interested Steve, who had expressed his concerns over getting a more stable job more than once during their lunch breaks.

Steve, of course, having gone through such a dilemma in order to find the answer to the age old question, "What do you want to be after you graduate from high school?", immediately pounced on her offer, much to his coworker's surprised laugh.

It was hard to believe that particular day had only been three weeks ago.

It was hard to believe that he had actually left his little country town only three hours ago.

It was hard to believe that he had left his _mother_ three hours ago.

Steve had deliberated over his decision for hours on end. On one hand, he would be leaving everything and everyone he ever knew, to go out into the world and into the city, _alone_ , like those old films his grandmother had showed him of hopeful young men seeking to make a better life for themselves. But on the other hand, he would finally be able to see what the world was like, outside of his home; he would finally start _living_ his life, instead of having to stay indoors all the time so as to not aggravate his now gone affliction.

He would know what _freedom_ was like. That was not to say that he felt trapped and suffocated in his town, of course, it was just that he always felt there was more room to grow as a whole, room that his town just didn't have.

And so here he was, at 4:35 in the morning, hugging his camping backpack like his old Lang Rabbit (1), head half covered by it, staring at the dark sky through half-lidded eyes.

He thankfully didn't have to worry about his luggage, since all of his coworkers pitched in, and had movers take his luggage for him to his apartment.

Steve's heart pulse quickened a little at that memory. The problem at the time, was that Steve couldn't find a place to stay. Either they were too expensive, too far away, too rundown, or just plain shady, and Steve had been very close to literally tearing his hair out. He wanted no more than to reenact one of his favorite gifs, where he would slowly close his laptop, before throwing it out the window like a frisbee.

Fortunately, he had managed to find an affordable apartment in the end, with the only stipulation being that he would have to share it with two other people who had been living there for a while.

(For some strange reason, the advertisement they had placed online said that, "Only interesting people can sign up for this. No boring people allowed!" Steve, who had seen this particular ad at 1:35 am after deciding to call it quits for the night, had decided to just fuck it, and applied right away. It was the usual form he had become accustomed to, having had several days filled with nothing but filling out online paperwork, except it had a little box at the bottom, with the eloquent inquiry of, "What makes you _not_ a boring person?"

Running on very little sleep and too much impotent coffee, he had decided to just put down whatever came to mind, which translated into putting down that he was related to one of the most famous actresses of all time, he was the main subject who had been the focus of Dr. Eskine's research, and he was an aspiring artist. He even attached some of his best work to it.

He was very surprised when he received a colorful email the next morning, gushing about how he was "totally _not_ a square!", which basically boiled down into him being accepted—after he had scrolled down all of the emojis that were used.)

The old dingy bus slowly came to a halt, the engines still gently whirring.

Hmm, strange, there were still two or so hours left before they reached the city, so why were they stopping early?

Steve was broken out of his musings, when the old lady jostled his seat as she rushed by, muttering, "Finally, I can get off this goddamned bus and fucking piss!", much to Steve's horror.

Her daughter slowly followed her, only stopping to yawn a soft, "Sorry, she gets like that whenever we go on long trips," to Steve, before continuing to shuffle forward.

The stout man who had been doing weird tricks with rubber bands had fallen asleep at some point, if the ill-fitting bright polka-dot sleeping mask and soft snores were anything to by.

Steve finally looked back outside his window, and saw that they had come to a rest station.

Huh.

Well, how about that.

…

Maybe he should follow them and stretch his legs or something.

But then again, he was already in a comfy position, and it would be such a shame to leave this warm spot of his.

To go or not to… go…

That was...

The…

...

...

...

Steve slowly fell back asleep, under the gentle light of the Texaco star.

* * *

(1) If you've seen Ant Man, you may know what this is.

Hey there, you made it to the end of the chapter! I hope it was okay for a first timer's attempt at writing stories. Let me know what you liked, or didn't like, in a review.

And I apologize in advance, if the slow pacing isn't for you, but I just wanted to take a crack at world building, see how that goes and all that.

Well, I'll see you in the next chapter.

Bye!


End file.
